


The One Who Fears Me

by moodwriter



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Past Abuse, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:19:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodwriter/pseuds/moodwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He owned a dog once, the kind that didn't trust anyone because it had been hurt before. The boy reminds him of the dog: the nervous look in his eyes, the way he quivers in Adam's arms.</i> Written for Glam_100, prompt: A crash with a stranger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Who Fears Me

**Author's Note:**

> Open Office has a little different word count, but yeah, it's a story made of drabbles. The awesome Aislinn acted as my beta again. Much love.

_Walk away,_ he tells himself. It's not his problem. The world is dark, the economy collapsed, their lives miserable and bleached of all color. This is not what he needs. 

Yet, he stops, turns around, walks back. 

The boy is fair, white-haired, and unconscious. He's still alive, though. He's lying on a cardboard bed, something resembling a potato sack covering his thin body, and he's shivering. 

Adam picks him up because he's stupid that way, and takes him home to his one room apartment he's been able to keep. 

He's never done anything as crazy as this.

***

When the boy wakes up he jumps out of Adam's bed, screaming like an animal. Adam captures him, holds him until he quiets down, murmuring soothing things the whole time.

He owned a dog once, the kind that didn't trust anyone because it had been hurt before. The boy reminds him of the dog: the nervous look in his eyes, the way he quivers in Adam's arms.

He has to be careful because of the landlord, has to keep the boy quiet, and he can't sleep until the boy trusts him enough not to put a knife in his gut.

***

It's four a.m. when the boy finally falls asleep again, and Adam just looks at his beautiful face. He's dirty, and there's nothing about him that should've made Adam take him home, but here he is.

Adam has to go to work at nine in the evening. He hopes the boy can talk, that he can make him see that there's nothing to worry about, that he is one of the good guys. All he can do is wait. 

He cooks breakfast: bacon and eggs, some grease around the boy's bones. 

The boy comes to sit at the table, wary.

***

“I'm Adam,” he says when he pours most of the food on the boys plate.

Adam drinks orange juice and eats an apple. At least food is still mostly available, except coffee and some other fancier stuff, like alcohol. 

“Tommy,” the boy says, so apparently he speaks. 

“Sorry about last night. My landlord is anal about noise.”

The boy shrugs, like he's seen worse and this is nothing.

“I have to go to work in about seven hours. Do you want to shower? Stay? Eat some more?”

He gets another shrug for an answer. It's frustrating.

***

Once they've finished eating, Tommy picks up the plates and goes to wash them. Adam follows him because he saw a flash of something. He takes Tommy's hand, twists it to see the numbers on his wrist.

Tommy pulls his hand back, becoming small, almost invisible right in front of Adam. 

“You escaped?” Adam asks, and when Tommy nods he doesn't push it. He's known a few former slaves. Most of them work in families that have managed to hold onto their fortunes, big company owners who run the world now. 

Some work in shadier sides of the society.

***

“It's okay,” Adam says. It's not really fair. He knows nothing about the things Tommy has seen. But here, in his home, things are okay. It's small. It's filthy, too, but it's warm and the downstairs door stays locked all day long.

“Okay,” Tommy echoes, starting to wash the dishes again. 

Adam wonders if he'll come back to a clean home. He's not much of a housekeeper, but it seems Tommy is. Maybe he worked in a home then.

“I work in a cabaret,” he says to say something, and he gets a smile as a reward.

***

It's a mesmerizing smile, and it catches his breath completely. He takes a step back so he won't do anything stupid.

“Music is my life,” Tommy says, and it's Adam's turn to smile. 

He goes to his iPod deck, and puts on old rock 'n' roll. Elvis and Hound Dog, one of his dad's favorites. 

Tommy has finished the dishes, and when there's nothing else for him to do he wrings his hands, looking uncomfortable. 

Adam realizes it's because he's not wearing proper clothes, his skinny legs visible. 

“That shower, you can lock the door from the inside.”

***

“I have clothes too,” he adds helpfully. He feels so stupid.

“Thanks, man. It's just... One person pointed a gun at me, thought I had something to give. Another tried to rape me. Not wearing much, you know.” The laugh he lets out is broken in the middle.

Adam nods. “It's okay.”

“Why'd you take me in?” Tommy looks at him carefully, like he's trying to avoid Adam's gaze but still fascinated by it. 

If he says it was a whim will the boy run? “You looked cold and miserable. I couldn't walk by you.”

***

“People don't do that, you know...” Tommy says, disbelieving.

“No, they don't.” He sighs. “I did, though.”

“You're weird.”

That makes him laugh. “Yeah.”

“I could take that shower.” Tommy glances at the wall, then Adam again. “Can I block the door with a chair?”

Adam bites his lip, his eyes probably revealing the smile. “There's one beside the bed. I'll get you the clothes.”

When Tommy emerges from the bathroom he looks like a decent person in the long sleeved T-shirt and Adam's ex's sweatpants, his hair still dripping wet.

***

“Do you want to stay a little longer?” Adam asks, lying on his bed, staring at Tommy. There's not much in his room, just one bookshelf, the bed, kitchen table, the armchair where he spent most of last night, and the black drapes that keep the sun out.

Tommy drags the lonely chair to its place at the foot of Adam's bed, then sits on it. “What do you want in return? Sex?”

That surprises him completely. “What?”

“Nothing's free in this world. I don't have any money. I probably can't do anything you find useful.”

***

 _Sex?_ For fuck's sake. “No. I don't buy people.”

Tommy looks at him with calculating eyes. “What then?”

“How about you just keep it clean here and cook and at some point find a job?”

“That's it?” Tommy sounds odd, like he doesn't believe that Adam has no hidden agenda. 

Adam shrugs. 

“I could disappear with your stuff when you go to work.”

He knows that. “And that would last a few days max. Here you'd have a roof over your head, food on your table, some company that won't try to hurt you.”

***

Tommy seems to consider it, then slumps against the back of the chair. “Yeah, okay. Okay... You don't want anything. Okay.”

“How long have you been on your own?”

“No idea.” Tommy glances at him quickly. “Maybe a few months.”

“I really don't mind if you stay. I don't have another mattress, but I can buy one once I get my next pay check. If you don't want to share the bed you can sleep in that chair.” He points at the worn out armchair. 

Tommy shrugs, but he's clearly uncertain about this whole thing.

***

Adam doesn't know what to expect when he comes back home after work.

If he told Sutan about this he would scold him for being so trusting and stupid. He doesn't know why he trusts the boy. Maybe because he is beautiful. That is the stupidest reason ever, but he can't help it. 

The apartment is dark and quiet, but everything seems to be in its rightful place. He takes off his shoes and jacket, and sneaks closer to the bed. A blond head is peeking from under the blanket. He lets out a quiet sigh. 

He thanks the universe.

***

He undresses quickly, then crawls under the covers, trying to avoid touching Tommy. It's not that easy because his bed is small, but he manages by turning on his side and moving as close to the edge as possible.

It takes him a while to fall asleep, but finally he does, dreaming about concert halls and record deals. 

Adam jerks awake because of a tongue in his ear, and a hand between his thighs. He flails about so much he falls off the bed, and Tommy lands on top of him. 

“Fuck... What?” Tommy sounds sleepy and innocent. 

_Shit._

***

“You came on to me,” Adam says, trying not to sound accusing. “I did nothing.” He emphasizes it by keeping his hands above his head against the floor.

Tommy doesn't move away, just stares at him, then grinds against Adam shamelessly. 

“Hey!” It's not the best way to stop someone from acting stupidly, but it's all he's got at the moment. It's been a while since he's gotten laid, and Tommy is exactly his type. 

“You like it.” Tommy bites his chin. “Admit it. You want to stick it in me.”

He groans. Frustrating shithead.

***

Adam uses his hip to push Tommy off of him, then sits up, holding Tommy back since his hands are all over him again. “This isn't a part of the deal.”

“It always is.” There's so much anger behind those words Adam's hold loosens a little, and Tommy manages to climb into his lap. He's already pulling off his shirt, revealing creamy white skin. 

Adam fights the urge to touch because this is beyond fucked up. “Tommy, it's okay. Let's just sleep.” What he has in his arms is more fragile than he thought.

“Fuck. Take me.”

***

When he does nothing Tommy stops moving, stops trying to tear off his clothes, and just sits there, sprawling in his lap. “Fuck you.” The words are passionless, quiet.

“Get up. Go to bed.” He helps Tommy up on the bed, and follows after. He doesn't know if it's the wrong thing to do, but he wraps an arm around Tommy's middle, pulling his back against his chest. 

They fall asleep like that, and in the morning everything's the same as before. 

Tommy stares at him with doubtful eyes, but he's there when Adam comes home from work.

***

They settle to a routine that starts to drive Adam gradually insane. Tommy does cook and clean, but he also wears practically nothing at home, and he's constantly in Adam's personal space, asking for attention, rubbing himself against Adam, trying to get him to lose it.

He tries to talk to Tommy, but Tommy doesn't talk. Except one syllable words in bed if Adam asks the right kind of questions, and even then the answers are vague. 

It's a weird kind of companionship, but Adam is excited to go home every time he walks down the street where he lives.

***

Then one night, he wakes up to Tommy tossing and turning in his sleep, pained little noises escaping his lips. When Adam shakes him awake he's disoriented and scared and doesn't know where he is, but once his breathing steadies he curls closer to Adam and falls asleep. Adam doesn't sleep, just holds Tommy, and thinks about the stupidity of the world.

Next morning, Tommy is wearing Adam's button down shirt, woolen socks, and black briefs. He's also carrying a tray full of food to bed. 

Adam lets him place it in his lap, and he eats with great pleasure.

***

They go out sometimes, but there's not much to do. The streets are not that safe for mere walking, and there are very few open restaurants or cafés in this area, but they do meet friends in their homes, and they go to watch old movies sometimes.

Tommy never goes out alone so the one night Adam comes back from work and Tommy isn't there his heart stops beating and he forgets how to breathe. He doesn't even know where to look. He can only hope that Tommy comes back.

He's gone for six days and seven nights. Adam waits.

***

There's a knock on the door, and he knows it's Tommy. It tears his heart apart. He opens it, takes in the fact that Tommy doesn't look like he's lived on the streets, doesn't look any worse than he did seven nights ago.

“Where have you been?” he asks, because after the hug Tommy hasn't said anything. 

“I left you a note.” Tommy points at the shelf on the wall of the small hall, but there's nothing there. “I did.” Tommy looks pale.

They look for it, and find it under the old wardrobe. 

“I'm sorry.”

***

He's never seen anyone look so scared.

“I went to get this from a friend of a friend.” Tommy swings a guitar case between them. “I borrowed money from you. I'll pay you back. I promise.”

Adam is so relieved he falls on the floor, his legs giving in. He'd imagined all kinds of terrible ends to Tommy, but here he is, breathing, alive, warm. 

Tommy kneels before him, takes hold of Adam's face, and stares at him. “I thought you knew. I'm sorry.”

He does the only thing that makes sense to him and kisses Tommy.

***

Tommy is hesitant only for a second, and then kisses him back, forceful, needy, like he can't breathe without Adam.

He splays Tommy on the floor, tries to get rid of his own clothes while Tommy pulls his shirt over his head, attacking the belt buckle next. It's frantic, and crazy, and Adam's never been this turned on in his life.

When they are both naked it slows down a little, and he stares at Tommy, takes his hands and pushes them above his head, and then they are kissing again. 

“Adam,” Tommy says against his mouth. “Please.”

***

He rocks with Tommy, pushes against him, puts a hand around their cocks, and finds a rhythm that suits them both. Tommy is shaking underneath him, so ready, panting, his mouth open, his chin up, and Adam bites it, presses his teeth against Tommy's skin. He gets a groan and a whimper as a reward, a quiet strangled sound that travels up his spine.

Tommy pushes with his feet, spreads his legs wider, and Adam comes with Tommy's name on his lips, Tommy right there with him, a beautiful pained expression on his face.

Adam kisses Tommy's cheek, his jaw.

***

“I missed you,” he whispers, knowing he's putting himself out there to get hurt. He's willing to take that risk because the loneliness was killing him. His existence without Tommy is bleak.

Tommy grins, exhausted. “I can see that.”

“Don't go, please.” He kisses Tommy's hair, buries his face in it, smelling him. “Please.”

“I was coming back the whole time.” 

He wants to believe that, every single word.

“I'll always come back.”

Adam puts his arms around Tommy and lifts him up, not caring one bit that they're sticky with come. “Promise me.”

***

It's those whispered promises that put him to sleep, and when he wakes up during the night Tommy's curled next to him so close there's not even a thought between them. Adam wraps his arms tighter around him, deciding that he'll take one day at a time with this person.

In the morning, Tommy kisses him awake, starting from his elbows and landing on his inner thighs. He's wide awake by the time Tommy's mouth circles his cock. 

He hums, satisfied and lazy, and then heated as fuck because Tommy knows what he's doing and he loses it, loses control.

***

He's shaking, trembling, coming in Tommy's mouth, and it's wild and a little earth shattering and his spine tingles, sharp pleasure burning his mind.

The rest of the day goes by in bed. They can't keep their hands off each other, and it's playful and fun like it's never been before. Adam loves every second of it, and when Tommy flakes out on him he goes to the kitchen and makes them chicken pasta. 

He watches Tommy, sees the faint scars on his body, and accepts the fact that he'll probably have to deal with a lot of shitty things.

***

“You're staring,” Tommy says, sticking his ass up, showing off.

“Hard not to stare.” The smile that can be heard in his voice is heavy and warm. 

Tommy turns to face him, pliant and lazy. “Put it in me,” he says, his voice dark. 

“Later,” Adam says softly, taking Tommy's hand and lacing their fingers. 

“You don't want to ride this, cowboy?” Tommy slaps his ass with his free hand. 

“Everyday, all day.” No lie. 

“You're so fucking sweet, you know that?” There's quiet hurt in those words.

He loves a little. “Yeah.”

 

The End


End file.
